


Explosion

by Jinmukang



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Explosions, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Minor Injuries, Tim Drake Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 09:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang
Summary: Tim gets caught in an explosion and Jason worries more than what he thought he would.Whumptober Day 2





	Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up longer than what I was planning... It kept wanting to go longer. Oh well. I kinda like how this one turned out.

Tim comes to first noticing how dark it is, and then the pain hits before he can process much else. He hisses as a bolt of pain races up his spine and he writhes as that bolt travels through his chest and down his arms then up to the base of his skull in the world’s most agonizing migraine.

He can’t focus on anything, he can’t even move. His stomach is rolls and he desperately turns his neck, resulting in another wave of pure suffering tossing over his entire body, the smell of acid and blood reaches his nose.

He forces himself to stay still, holding his breath, chanting _don’t move don’t move don’t move_ over and over inside his mind. After what feels like a few minutes, the pain subsides, he releases the breath he was holding slowly to not trigger anymore waves of pain. Once he gets himself into a steady breathing rhythm, he begins to think.

The migraine is powerful, but his still movements and steady breathing has seemed to calm it to just a strong headache. He can think. Tim’s always thinking, there’s no way he’ll let a little discomfort stop him from doing it.

He thinks about where he is, and the answer quickly becomes apparent that he has no clue. He can feel harsh, jagged rocks under his back, pressing into his shoulder blades uncomfortably, but that’s the most that he has. He’s not quite willing to open his eyes yet, just a tiny fearful of what he’ll see or won’t see, so he instead begins to focus on the last time he knew where he was.

It takes a minute. The last thing he can remember is from when he was standing behind Bruce as Bruce worked on the computer, pulling up different files relating to something to do with guns. He needed Tim to investigate something while he and the demon brat worked on a different case. Tim… left after that, going as Red Robin towards some kind of… warehouse? Yes, it’s a warehouse. It’s all slowly coming back.

He went inside the warehouse, finding it empty besides a few wooden crates. He opened one and… and…

Fire. Pain. Red and heat. A large _boom _that has his ears bursting.

Darkness.

An explosion.

He was just in an explosion.

He opens his eyes now, to keep himself from panic, his breath hitching. The first sight he sees is the result of his rebelling stomach from earlier. He wrinkles his nose and looks away, careful to not move his neck. He has a suspicion of why his spine hurts so much and he’s not willing to prove it quite yet. He’s on his back, so he has to look to the left to look up, and thankfully the sight of the sky greets him.

He’s not buried, but when his eyes travel to his lower body all thoughts of relief leaves him.

No, he’s not buried, just pinned under a giant support beam. It’s over his stomach, but with all the rubble it’s miraculously positioned so he’s just very efficiently pinned, not at risk of suffocation. He would sigh in relief, but seeing the beam seems to remind him that he’s in pain no matter how dulled it is from his persistent lack of movement. He winces at the aching in his chest and hips, he can feel various cuts and burns along his arms, and along his face come to think of it. The scent of blood in the air is so prominent that he knows he’s bleeding, but his entire body has much the same ache so he can’t pinpoint where the blood could be coming from.

He could be bleeding to death. His spine could be permanently damaged. Great. Another thing to add to his list of things wrong with him, he’ll put “spine damage” next to “missing spleen” and “bleeding to death” next to “that one time Jason snuck into the Titan’s tower and beat the shit out of me”.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Now isn’t the time to panic. Now is the time to take stock of himself and evaluate his next metaphorical step (because he doubts he’ll be taking any actual steps soon). He counts to ten in his head and then begins to slowly wiggle his toes, and thankfully they do actually wiggle. He can move his feet. He can feel his legs. Okay, so he’s not paralyzed, but if he lays here for too long he very well can start planning on it.

Okay, okay next step. See if he can contact anyone. He bites his lip and lifts one of his hands to his ear. Waves of pain travels with the movement, but he’s able to ignore most of it until he finally places his fingers on his comm link.

“R-Red Robin to cave,” he says, his throat hurts and his voice rattles something in his chest. He resists the urge to cough and instead clears his throat of phlegm. “Is anyone there?”

A spike of pine erupts in his lower back and he groans, tenses as a second wave of pure agony races through his body. His vision swirls and his stomach feels the need to rebel again. He doesn’t know if his body goes through with the urge, all he knows is the darkness creeping in from the corners of his eyes, echoes of his name from far away, and then be completely loses consciousness.

“… help…”

-o-o-o-o-

Dog notices something’s wrong a whole second before something actually goes wrong. It isn’t anything dramatic, just a small _boof _that makes Jason look up from the book he’s reading. He raises an eyebrow at her but Dog isn’t looking at him, she’s looking out the window of Jason’s apartment, her cute doggy face scrunched up in what seems to be worry.

“What-?”

And then, the ground shakes. It’s not like an earthquake, more like a rumble one can associate with a large truck driving by, rattling the walls and clinking glass dishes in the cupboards. He would have almost assumed it was just a truck driving by if not for the large _boom _that split the air, startling Dog to her paws and Jason to his feet. Dog barked unhappily as Jason ran to the window, looking out into the night with wide eyes.

He knows that sound. The sound of an explosion.

More sounds reaches his ears, sounds of a crumbling building nearby, but not close enough for him to see through the mess of buildings on his block.

Dog barks again and Jason turns from the window to see Dog pulling something out from under his bed. Next thing he knows, he’s watching her tug out his hood and place it down at his feet with a small whine. She licks her nose and gives him a head tilt, and he can’t help but smile despite the anxiety slowly clawing into his chest.

He grabs his hood and pats her on the head. “Good girl,” he says, before he lifts the hood closer to his face. Something reaches his ears from inside the hood. He scowls, wondering if he accidentally kept the comm link on inside it, and places it on his head, hoping to maybe catch onto anyone having a conversation about that explosion.

_“-o cave…_” a weak voice says. Tim. Jason’s stomach clenches. “_Is anyone there_?”

Then, Tim makes a pained noise and bursts into very painful coughs.

“Tim?!” Jason asks, a strange sense of alarm sending red flags into his brain. Tim doesn’t reply, just continues to cough. “Tim!”

Jason swears and rushes past Dog to dig out the rest of his uniform, he’s in the process of tugging his leather jacket over his arms when a very weak, wobbly voice says a single word.

“_… help…_”

Jason is out the door before he can think about it.

-o-o-o-o-

As much as Jason hates to even attempt it, Bruce doesn’t answer the comms. Neither does Damian. Jason can only assume it’s because they’re on their own private line; because the alternative is Bruce ignoring them which sends Jason’s mind to a very unhappy place.

Bruce cares about Tim, and Jason repeats this to himself like a mantra as he speeds faster on his motorcycle. If anything happened to Tim, Bruce would be there. Bruce would never ignore Tim’s cry for help like he would ignore Jason. No, he’s just on a different frequency so he and the demon spawn can communicate without background chatter.

That’s it.

He’s probably elbow deep in fighting bad guys so he wouldn’t have noticed a building _exploding _on the other side of town.

That’s all it is.

Alfred is a different story. He would normally be in the cave assisting with all the communication or emergency research. If he doesn’t answer, it can only mean Bruce gave him the night off or he’s busy doing something else. Barbara and Dick are back in Blüdhaven last Jason heard, working on exposing some major underground prostitution ring of some sort so there’s no way they would have heard the cry for help. Kate, Steph, and Duke all normally do their own thing like Jason does, and Cass is all the way in Hong Kong again, so it’s a miracle in of itself that Jason even heard Tim.

He forgot to turn off the comm, forgot to take it off the general frequency the entire bat clan shares like some sort of mushy gross group call from the last time he was on it. Wasn’t his choice. Dick forced him to get on it when there was a city wide terrorist attack a few days ago. You know, a normal Tuesday.

Though, it’s not like it matters much now. Tim has gone silent, the connection’s fizzled down to a steady static. It doesn’t stop him from hissing Tim’s name every so often, trying to make contact. It never works, but anything is better than sitting there with the constant static.

A car honks at him as he pushes his bike faster, running a definite red light. The explosion came from somewhere in the Narrows, which could only mean a whole lot of bad. Cops are slow to report there, mostly because of the constant stream of crime that plagues the demonic island. If Jason got some cops on his trail in Crime Alley and lead them into the Narrows, it might just help.

Because Jason knows that if Tim was caught in that explosion, there’s a very slim chance Jason would be able to do actually do anything helpful. Tim sounded like he needed medical attention; something that Jason knows he’s not the best at.

He swerves between two cars and someone flips him off through their window, but he keeps going, desperately fighting off the terror that he’s too late.

“C'mon Tim…”

-o-o-o-o-

Tim comes to a bit slower this time, a bit more numb. His eyes flutter open and he vaguely notices that the moon is in a completely different position than it was before.

He lets out a groan, a hiss through his teeth, but is careful to _Not. Move. At. All._

He doesn’t want to repeat his last coughing fit from hell.

Instead, he blinks and focuses on breathing, on the meditation practices Bruce taught him and the ones he thought himself. He thinks that he should try again to contact someone, but if the simple action of holding his hand to his ear was enough to knock him out last time, he doesn’t want to risk it again. He can feel cold seeping into his skin, scratching at his bones. He can’t quite tell where his legs are anymore, and he’s not sure if it’s because of spine damage or if it’s because of the beam cutting off the circulation.

Or if it’s just a result of blood loss. He feels nauseous and he hasn’t moved a finger yet. There’s a dull pressure in his thigh, _that_ he can feel. He kinda doesn’t want to know what that is.

He’s so deep in his own mind, trying to keep himself calm and trying to decide if he should try again to contact someone, that he doesn’t notice the loud humm of an engine until it’s shut off, the sound of footsteps on uneven ground following just a second later.

It’s very close by.

Now Tim’s very close to panicking. It can be anyone. It can be criminals. Criminals who saw the explosion and came to see if there’s any pickings left before any cops get to the scene. Red Robin is a sitting duck, there’s no hiding his mask on his face or the cape below him. He’ll be completely helpless if anyone with bad intentions stumble upon him.

He sucks in a breath and holds it, clenching his fingers and fighting off the nausea swimming in his gut.

If he’s found by a bad guy, there’s no way in hell he’s not going to go down without a fight. Spine damage and nausea be damned!

“Red Robin!” A voice calls and Tim almost passed out from the relief alone.

Relief, and then complete confusion, but he tries to focus more of the relief.

Jason. Jason’s here. Tim doesn’t know why (or even if he’s here because he wants to help…), but Jason is here.

He opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, and yells. “Here!”

The act alone makes him dizzy, so he doesn’t hear Jason reply; he doesn’t even realize Jason found him until there’s a hand on his head. He flinches and winces as once again a bolt of agony races up his spine.

“Shit, shit,” Jason’s whispering, wiping Tim’s hair out from his face. Tim blinks and forces his eyes to focus on Jason's… face. The hood is thrown off and laying on the ground, there’s nothing but that almost too small red mask to cover his identity. “Fuck.”

“F-forty dollars…” Tim groans, but tries to force a smirk on his face.

Jason gives him a look like he thinks Tim is insane, but then his face splits into what almost looks like a genuine grin. There’s a tightness to it that Tim doesn’t understand… or want to understand. “You’re in a debris sandwich, and you’re concerned about how much money I owe the swear jar?”

“S'me… someone’s gotta enforce-” he cuts himself off with a fit of wracking coughs. The action pulls at every ache and pain in his body, especially his thigh. His vision swims and if takes a while to realize Jason is calling his name, patting his cheek in a series of quick, somewhat gentle slaps.

“Stop…” Tim murmurs, willing the blurriness out of his vision.

“Then don’t scare me like that, jackass,” Jason mutters. Tim only hums, biting back his remark that Jason owes the swear jar another five dollars, as Jason reaches towards his jacket and pulls out a burner phone.

“Wat'r you-”

“I’m calling to see what’s taking those damn cops so long.”

“Oh.”

Jason’s attention leaves Tim as someone answers the phone, and Tim finds his mind wondering. He’s so numb. And tired. Everything hurts at the same time too, which is weird. To be numb and in pain. He licks his lips and let’s his eyes drag to the side, looking at the distant buildings and lamplights.

Never in his dreams did he think he could ever feel safe with Jason around. But right now, he feels that. Enough to finally let his guard down, relax his shoulders and let the tension fade. Tim and Jason had a rocky start, an _understandably _rocky start, and since their first meeting there has always been a tension. Tim is a reminder of Jason’s failure, of Jason’s mistakes. Tim is a reminder that Jason’s been replaced.

Tim wouldn’t blame Jason if he just called the cops and then left with an indifferent goodbye. But for some reason, he gets the feeling that this time Jason wouldn’t do that.

“Hey, you listenin’?”

Tim blinks and lets his eyes land back on the former Robin. Jason has his hand raised part way like he was getting ready to smack Tim again but it lowers when Tim’s eyes land on his.

“Yeah?”

A smile that looks more like a grimace passes over Jason’s face. “An ambulance is on its way. I also finally got ahold of B, you’ll be in the caring arms of Leslie in no time.”

Tim hums. “Can… can you get help me up?”

Jason winces. “I uh, don’t think that’s a good idea, baby bird. We’ll leave it for the paramedics. Try not to move your neck, okay?”

Tim almost nods. Man, he must be out of it. Instead he hums again. “Stay with me?”

Jason actually looks startled, as if the question itself shocked him. Or the implication that he wouldn’t stay. Tim frowns when Jason doesn’t answer, but finally Jason clears his throat and settles down next to Tim after a few silent seconds, placing his hand gently on Tim shoulder.

“Of course…”

-o-o-o-o-

The rest is a blur. Tim blinks in and out of consciousness when the paramedics arrive. The moment the beam’s hefted from his body he blacks out, but he doesn’t quite escape the pain. He hears sirens, can feel straps keeping him in place, but the pain always drowns it out pretty quickly.

But Jason is there… the entire time. He can hear Jason yelling at the paramedics when they were about to take off his mask. He can feel a warm hand in his. Encouraging words reaching his ears with the voice he never expected.

Then, there’s a sharp pinch in the crook of his elbow, and the black consumes him completely.

-o-o-o-o-

Jason sighs and leans forward in the cheap plastic chair of the clinic, studying Tim with sharp eyes. He almost looks like a mummy with the amount of bandages on him, and the neck brace makes him look absolutely ridiculous. One of his thighs are heavily bandaged, and Jason winces at the memory of Tim pinned under heavy metal, skewered through his leg from a metal bar is some sort. There was a lot of blood, but not as much as there could have been.

It could have been a lot worse.

Tim could have been buried. The beam could have toppled over on his head or something as vital. The bar could have impaled his heart.

Tim could have died on impact. Jason could have stumbled upon nothing more than a mangled corpse.

And the thought sends his stomach rolling.

The thought sends him somewhere else. Somewhere in the Middle East. He’s almost afraid to blink, that if he closes his eyes for even a second he’ll open them and he’ll be back there; a crowbar hitting his flesh violently, repetitively, a wheezing laughter breaking off every so often to ask him what hurts more. _Overhand? Or Backhand?_

He’ll see the woman who should have been his mother sobbing in her restraints as he foolishly decides to try and rescue her. He’ll see the bright numbers of an electronic counter, numbers too low to do much more than panic.

If he blinks, he’s afraid he’ll go back there. But keeping his eyes open has him thinking too much, thinking about what if it were Tim back there?

At first, he used to take pleasure in making people suffer the way he did. Beating Joker half to death with a crowbar was so intoxicating back then. Beating _Tim _half to death used to be a memory that he smirked at. Poor little Robin, had no idea what he got into, what kind of man he tried to step into the shoes of.

Seeing Tim like this now… it just makes him feel like he should maybe throw up.

He sits there, staring, listening to the beeps of the machine and ignoring the vibrations of his phone announces that Bruce is finally on his way. He does nothing but wage a war of if he should blink or if he should breathe or if he should just stand up and go, but then the decision is made for him when he notices a pair of half lidded, blue eyes looking at him.

“T- Replacement,” Jason says, reaching forward to press the button that will let Leslie know Tim’s awake. It’s important to her to be one hundred percent updated on everything, especially since Tim doesn’t have a spleen and anything can go wrong.

Tim blinks lazily before more awareness floods into his gaze. He focuses on Jason, and then a very strange smile tugs the corners of his lips up.

“Didn't… didn’t think you’d stay,” Tim mumbles, practically trips over his words.

Jason’s heart clutches. How could he have ever hated this kid? This incredibly dorky kid whose both so incredibly trusting and untrusting at the same time? How could he have ever patted himself on the back for beating the shit out of him? For smiling at the thought of doing it again?

“Someone had to make sure you didn’t move when you woke up,” Jason replies, trying to go for nonchalant.

Tim’s tired grin widens into a smirk. “Nah, you w- you were _worried_.”

Jason glares. Oh yeah. This is why he hated Tim. He’s the ultimate smart ass. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to dig you out next time you get yourself almost buried alive.”

Tim chuckles and his eyes flutter, the good stuff in his IV beginning to pull him back under. “M'not worried.”

“Why so?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tim’s eyes flicker closed. “Trust you…”

And then the world of the awake leaves Tim, and Jason is left sitting there, shocked once again at how trusting Tim is. How trusting of _Jason _he is. He’s heard from Dick that he’s basically Tim’s hero, told to imagine how hard it was for Tim to even attempt at filling the shoes he left. Jason can imagine, he had to fill Dick’s pathetic pixie boots once upon a time.

_“You were Robin when he was a kid, you were the coolest thing to him, and he wanted nothing more than to live up to your legacy. Sure, I was first, but Tim was always **your **biggest fan,_” Dick had told him one rare, quiet night. Jason didn’t believe it. He still doesn’t quite believe it.

Leslie thankfully chose to come into the room before he could go further into that train of thought.

Bruce and Damian burst in soon after, to which Jason decides to finally take his leave. Bruce is already looking at Jason like he’s done something wrong and the demon brat is scowling like he’s looking for a fight and Jason just… isn’t in the mood. He bids them goodbye and rushes out.

He almost makes it home, but then he’s stopped in his tracks when he sees something in a passing store window. He sighs.

He’s gone soft.

-o-o-o-o-

Tim can hear Bruce, his voice is muffled like he’s on the other side of a door, and when Tim opens his eyes he finds that that’s exactly the case. He lets his eyes roll over to where he almost expected Jason to be, but the sight that meets him is much different.

A simple teddy bear sits in the chair, dressed in a red and green suit, a yellow badge stitched on with a red R embroidered in the center, a cape tied around it’s neck.

There’s a sticky note pressed into the fur of the bear, it’s written sloppily and rushed, but Tim can just make out the words.

“_Get well soon, Replacement_”

He smiles and looks up to the ceiling, deciding whatever just transpired between Jason and Tim… it was good.

And he isn’t complaining.

Though he could have done without the neck brace.


End file.
